


My Mind Is My Own Worst Enemy; It Keeps Trying To Convince Me That You Are

by DontOffendTheBees



Series: Brotzly Week (Lets Pretend For The Purposes Of This Challenge That I Haven't Been Living Every Week As If It's Brotzly Week) [5]
Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Betrayal, Heavy Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Project Blackwing (Dirk Gently), Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 23:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11218566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontOffendTheBees/pseuds/DontOffendTheBees
Summary: His voice is so familiar and yet also just so…wrong.There’s something missing in it. Some vital aspect of Todd that Dirk didn’t even notice until it was gone.Brotzly Week day five. Prompt: 'Angst'





	My Mind Is My Own Worst Enemy; It Keeps Trying To Convince Me That You Are

**Author's Note:**

> so today's prompt is 'angst', and i thought i'd break out a prompt from victorluvsalice i received a week or two ago that's one of the most horrifying prompts i've ever had: dirk has a nightmare that todd is a blackwing plant/scientist
> 
> i stabbed my soul in the face 17 times to write this but i hope you enjoy (....y’know what, that might be the wrong word)
> 
> WARNING: this is quite psychological horror-y, there’s angst and betrayal and sad things and it’s gonna end on a sad but not world-ending note (NO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH OR BREAK UPS I PROMISE, THINGS WILL BE OKAY THEY'LL JUST BE... ANGSTY)

He’s running. He’s running faster than he’s ever run before and it’s still not fast enough. Not fast enough to cover any distance. Not fast enough to leave the footsteps behind. Not fast enough to leave the _image_ behind, the one burned into his retinas.

His symbol. The _Icarus_ symbol. Printed in red ink on paper he wasn’t supposed to find in a hiding place where he wasn’t supposed to look.

Where _Todd_ knew he had no reason to look.

“Dirk?”

His blood runs cold. It’s not Todd. It _can’t be_ Todd. Todd would never…

No, it doesn’t matter. Whether this… _thing_ chasing him is Todd or some kind of Todd-impersonator. It doesn’t matter because it _knows._ It knows it’s been discovered and now it’s coming for him.

He runs faster, faster than he even knew he was capable, and cries out in frustration. No matter how fast he goes the corridors of the Ridgeley seem to stretch on forever, the staircase never growing closer- if anything it only grows further away. It’s no use. He can’t run.

So his only other option is to hide.

He fumbles blindly along the wall until he finds it. A door handle. He twists it violently and flings himself into the airing cupboard, slamming the door shut behind him and backing himself against the far wall. Not far enough, barely a step away from the door. But there’s nowhere else to go, nowhere else to hide, nothing to do but catch his breath and stare through the slats in the door at the flickering light in the hallway.

And listen to the footsteps.

They’re growing closer. Slow, measured and yet somehow covering twice the distance he could sprinting. One second they’re miles away, the next they’re practically on his doorstep.

“Dirk?” the Not-Todd’s voice rings out, calm and collected. “Dirk, come out, I can explain.”

His voice is so familiar and yet also just so… _wrong._ There’s something missing in it. Some vital aspect of Todd that Dirk didn’t even notice until it was gone. He tries to back further into the closet, only the find that the wall is even closer than before. All of them are. The side walls are now so close his jacket rasps against them as he moves. He freezes, caught between holding his breath and hyperventilating because there’s no room, no way out, no bloody _air_ because it seems to actually be leeching out of the room. Nothing but the pounding of his heart, the steady approach of the Not-Todd’s footsteps, and the flicker of the light in the hall.

And then the light fades into the background, because the Not-Todd stands directly in front of it.

“Dirk,” he says, and his voice is warm and welcoming but there’s still something _not there_ and Dirk can feel his nerves rattling against his skin. “Dirk… what did you see?”

Dirk keeps his mouth shut. He wonders if the Not-Todd can hear his racing heart through the wood.

“…Okay. I know it looks bad.” He stands facing along the corridor, Dirk seeing his face in profile against the wavering light. He thinks he can see his forehead shift as the Sad Brows come out, but he can’t draw comfort from the familiarity. “But all that stuff… that was just research. You remember when we broke you out, right? We had to know what we were working with.”

Oh, Dirk _wants_ to believe him. He really does. But the alarm bells are still ringing in his head and he can’t move, can’t speak.

And then the Not-Todd looks at him.

Their eyes meet through the slats, and it could be so easy to believe him. But Dirk knows his instincts, and he knows Todd's eyes, and he knows what he can hear in his voice. Curiosity, professionalism.

Detachment.

"Come on, Dirk," he says quietly, with a reassuring smile that doesn't fit his face. "Come out. It's gonna be okay."

His hand lifts, extends, settles against the door, fingertips just poking through the slats, so close Dirk could reach out and touch them. "I won't let them take you again."

They don't break eye contact, and Dirk searches desperately for a trace of the Todd he knows. The Todd he loves.

He comes up empty.

"...You're lying."

He thinks he catches the smile falling for good before the door is thrown open, and the hand that reached out in comfort is dragging him out into the light.

He kicks, he claws, he struggles but there's nothing he can do because the Not-Todd is too strong and it won't rest until Dirk is subdued.

And subdue him it does.

"Go away!" Dirk cries, face pressed into the floor as the Not-Todd's foot presses down between his shoulder blades, pinning him with a strength he can't comprehend. "I'm _not_ going back!"

"It didn't have to be like this," the Not-Todd says in icy tones, chilling Dirk to the bone. "You could have made this so much easier on yourself."

"What have you done with him?" Dirk demands, but it sounds feeble when he's weak as a new-born foal under the Not-Todd's weight. "What have you done with Todd?!"

The foot presses down harder, his shoulders scream in agony. "Nothing," the Not-Todd says, sounding almost bored. "He never existed."

Dirk's vision narrows down to the tiniest single point of flickering light, his breath rushes from his lungs. "...What?"

The foot disappears, replaced a split second later by a knee. Guitar-calloused hands twist his arms behind his back. "Todd Brotzman was a cover." Cold metal surrounds his wrists. "Colonel Riggins said that bringing you in would be easier if you let your guard down." The handcuffs click shut, and Dirk can hear the sneer in his voice. "He actually thought we could make you turn yourself in _willingly_. What a waste of time- if I knew you'd be _this_ easy to take down, I'd've done it months ago. Thought you were supposed to have freaky superpowers or something."

Dirk can barely move his head but he shakes it anyway. "No. No, this is... Todd, you've, you've been brainwashed or something, this is-"

A swift, harsh kick to his side silences him. He gasps, rolled onto his side by the force of it, and he looks up through watering eyes at his attacker. Not a Not-Todd, not an imposter. His Todd, real Todd.

Todd, who looks down on him with contempt as he raises his phone to his ear. "I always _hated_ that fucking name."

And then Dirk's vision starts to fade, white noise creeping into his ears and all he can hear past it is Todd's voice. Cold, uncaring, talking about him like he’s nothing. He _is_ nothing, as far as he’s concerned. He always was.

"Icarus is grounded. I repeat, _Icarus is grounded."_

* * *

 

Dirk wakes up not with a bang but with a whimper. He's tense, his heart's racing, he's drenched in a cold sweat from head to toe. But his arms are free and the surface beneath him is just the slightly lumpy mattress and oh God it was a dream it was just a dream it was-

A hand lands on his shoulder. "Dirk?"

He reacts on instinct - he smacks it away and rolls out of bed, thumping gracelessly to the floor in a panic because _oh God it's his voice it's-!_

"Dirk!" Todd says again, and it takes a moment for him to swim into vision but he's staring at Dirk with fear and concern and... and other very un-Not-Todd-like things. "Dirk, Jesus, are you-?"

"Stop," Dirk rasps, and Todd complies almost instantly. "Just... Stop. Talking. Your voice, I..."

Todd stays quiet. But he's still there, and he looks worried and scared and Dirk feels so bloody, bloody _guilty_ for putting that look on his face but...

But it's a face he can't look at. Not just this minute.

"I just," he mumbles, staggering to his feet and making for the bathroom. "I need a moment. I'm alright, I just... just a sec."

Todd doesn't follow him. He's learned not to, by now.

Dirk slips into the bathroom and closes the door a little too hard behind him. He braces both hands on the sink and bows his head, fighting down the twisting panic still tearing up his insides.

It takes several minutes to bring himself back down, another to shake the blood back into his hands after he's been clenching them white-knuckled on the porcelain. It takes another five to muster up the courage to look up and meet his own eyes in the mirror.

He looks terrible. Pale as a ghost, eyes red rimmed, hands trembling. He wonders how much worse he must have looked not ten minutes ago. Wonders what Todd saw.

The idea of Todd in the next room sends a tiny but distinct spike of panic through him.

He screws his eyes shut and shakes his head. "No. No, stop it, that's... That's bloody ridiculous. It was a dream. Todd wouldn't..." He meets his gaze in the mirror sternly. _"Todd. Loves you."_

It helps. A little.

But sometimes he even has trouble believing that on good days.

* * *

 

The next day will be difficult.

Dirk will retreat into himself. He'll avoid physical contact and keep eye contact to a minimum. He'll speak when spoken to and not ask questions, and when the time comes to say goodnight he'll give the bed a wide berth and doze off fully-clothed on the couch.

And Todd will notice, and he'll worry, and he'll offer whatever he has to offer but in the end he'll leave Dirk to his own devices and wait for this to blow over - like it always does, eventually.

And it will blow over. In three days time, it’ll be like nothing happened.

But three days is a long time. And Dirk will spend each of them watching Todd- his friend, his boyfriend, love of his life- with wariness and barely-masked terror.

And he’ll wonder if there’s anything left in his life that Blackwing _can’t_ take from him.

**Author's Note:**

> *dodges rotten fruit* fluff tomorrow i promise!!!!!


End file.
